What Kimberley Saw
by r4ven3
Summary: This is my offering for Ruth's birthday - April 29th. A 2-shot set some time in S8, not long after Ruth returns. Mildly amusing rather than humorous, more whimsy than laugh-out-loud. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

"Where's Ruth?"

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at Tariq. Then four pairs of eyes turned to where Harry had just lifted his gaze from the meeting agenda on the desk in front of him. "What?" he asked, looking in turn from Ros to Lucas to Dimitri, and lastly to Tariq. "Where's Ruth?" he asked at last, his eyes taking in the empty chair next to him, the chair on which no other senior member of the Grid dared sit.

"That's what I said," replied Tariq.

"Am I missing something?" Harry continued, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes," Ros drawled, "Ruth."

Again Harry gazed from one to the other of his team. "Someone had better ring her and remind her that she's needed at this meeting."

"Right," said Ros, who placed her phone on the table in front of her and pressed Ruth's name in Contacts. From through the glass which separated the meeting room from the Grid, everyone heard the distinctive sound of a choir singing the _Hallelujah Chorus_ from Handel's _Messiah_ – Ruth's ringtone. "Wherever she is, she didn't take her phone."

Harry caught Ros' eye. "Could you check, Ros? There are only two places she's likely to be."

"And they are?"

"The women's toilets or the roof."

"The roof?" Ros lifted one eyebrow.

"She sometimes goes there to .. think, but given this meeting was to have begun -" he consulted his watch, squinting and holding his wrist at a distance to read the time, "- eight minutes ago, I think it's more likely she'd be in the loo, and maybe she ..."

"Lost track of time?" Again Ros lifted an eyebrow.

"I don't know. You're a woman, Ros -"

"Glad you noticed."

"I have no idea what women get up to when they congregate in the rest rooms."

"Plotting to overthrow the patriarchy, mostly."

"Good luck with that," Lucas interjected, grinning.

"What .. with guns and bombs and stuff?" Tariq's excitement was almost infectious. "Cool."

"We use anything which is lethal to those with the Y chromosome," Ros purred. "You know – logic, reason, compassion -"

" _Hah_!" Lucas's response was part laugh part cough.

"- intelligence, forethought -"

"Yes, yes, we all get the picture, Ros," Harry said impatiently, "but would you find Ruth and hurry her up? We need her here."

Which really means that _you_ need her here, thought Ros. "Right," she said, standing and making her way to the door. "I'm quite happy for you to start without me," she threw over her shoulder as she left the room, the doors closing behind her.

Ros strode along the corridor towards the ladies' loos, wondering would it be fair to the others if, when she found Ruth, they both absconded for a half hour to take a coffee break away from Thames House. She was certain that the combined testosterone levels of the men in Section D was interfering with her menstrual cycle. Reaching the fifth floor women's toilets, Ros pushed open the door, only to have the door hit an obstruction, followed by a yowl. She poked her head around the door, and there on the floor was Ruth, her face streaked with tears.

"Could you help me to my feet, please," Ruth pleaded, her eyes panda-like from running mascara.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Ros' eyes darted around the wash room, and then towards the four toilet cubicles, checking under the doors that there were no .. interlopers. Apparently Ruth was alone, and there were no signs of foul play.

"I slipped," Ruth said lamely, "on some water which had splashed on the floor. I think I've .. done something to my ankle."

"Can you get to your feet?"

"If I could get to my feet I would have," Ruth said curtly. "Every time I tried to stand I slipped over."

"All right, no need to lose your shit, Ruth -"

"I'm not losing my shit, _Ros_. I'm upset, and my ankle is already swelling, and I haven't been able to remove my shoe."

"Right." Ros kneeled down beside Ruth, letting the door close behind her. Very carefully she removed Ruth's shoe, and yes, her ankle already appeared quite swollen, and was turning an odd colour. "Can you move your toes?"

"Move them? Move them where? They're attached to my foot."

Ros looked into Ruth's eyes, and seeing no sign of sarcasm or clear understanding, she changed tack. "Try wiggling your toes."

"I have and it hurts."

"But can you?"

"Can I what?"

"Wiggle your toes."

By this time Ruth was leaning her back against the tiled wall, her legs stretched out in front of her, the hem of her skirt just above her knees. "I can, but it hurts."

"So your ankle isn't broken, but it's no doubt sprained."

"Can you help me up? I need to get to the meeting."

"Not today you won't." Ros dropped to the floor, and in an apparent gesture of solidarity she rested her back against the wall next to Ruth. Then she took her phone from the zippered pocket of her black jacket and pressed a number. "Harry? It's Ros. Ruth is in the ladies' loos. She's fallen over and injured herself. I think it's a sprained ankle. Harry?" Ros took the phone from her ear and stared at the screen. "He hung up."

"He's running the meeting, and you interrupted him," Ruth said sulkily. "That kind of thing annoys him."

"Tell me about it," Ros murmured, and then no sooner had she thought the words, `very odd state of affairs', and the man himself was outside the door.

"Ros? Let me in."

"Say please."

"How about you open the door and let me in or I'll send you on obbos for the next three weeks in a row."

"Jesus, keep your hair on."

Ros got to her feet and opened the door. Ruth looked up at her in disbelief. She opened her mouth to object, but no sooner had she decided what to say than Harry was through the door and inside the wash room. Ruth heard his knees click as he dropped to one knee beside her. "Are you all right, Ruth?" he asked, reaching out to touch her leg just above the ankle.

"I'll head back then, shall I?" Ros stood in the doorway, one hand holding the door open. When Harry ignored her, she let out a sudden sound of disgust, and then left. The door closed behind her with a soft whoosh.

"I need to get to my feet, Harry. I can't sit here all day. Besides, the tiles are cold."

Harry looked into Ruth's eyes, and for the first time noticed her distress. "Put your arms around my neck," he said, his face close to hers.

"Harry, this is hardly the time to be making overtures -"

"Bloody hell, woman, as if I'd take advantage of you while you're injured. Put your arms around my neck, and I'll lift you to your feet."

So while avoiding Harry's eyes, Ruth reached up to slide her arms around his neck until both hands cupped the back of his neck. Harry suppressed a smile. He had always wondered how it would feel to have Ruth's arms around his neck. It was rather .. nice. Very slowly he got to his feet, bringing Ruth with him. When he was standing upright he rested his hands on Ruth's hips to steady her. They stood there, their bodies close, but not quite touching, his hands lightly resting at her waist, while her hands were still around his neck.

They stood that way for a long moment, their eyes lost in the person standing in front of them, when the door opened suddenly, hitting Harry in the back, so that he stumbled against Ruth. He removed one hand from her waist, pressing it against the tiles behind her head to steady them both, while with his other hand he pulled Ruth close to him to protect her. From the doorway Kimberley from the technical suite stared wide-eyed, taking in the couple in a semi-embrace.

"Gosh .. sorry," she said, clearly rather interested, "I didn't know you were -", and then as quickly as she'd entered the wash room, she left, the door whooshing softly as it closed behind her.

Harry and Ruth both stood, still with their hands on each other, staring at the closed door, their minds trying to grasp what had just happened. Harry turned back to Ruth, whose eyes were about as wide as he'd ever seen them. He experienced a mad moment when he thought that kissing her might be a good idea, but then she looked into his eyes. "Harry, we've got to stop her."

"Stop her? Stop her doing what?"

Suddenly Ruth took her hands from around his neck, and stumbled, so she reached out to grasp his sleeve. "She'll talk," she said.

Taking advantage of Ruth's evident vulnerability, he pulled her closer, his hands resting at the small of her back. "Her job involves quite a bit of talking, so yes, she'll talk."

"No, I mean about us."

"Us?"

"She came upon us in the ladies' loos, and she saw us with our ..."

"..arms around each other. We _are_ fully clothed, Ruth. What could we possibly have been doing?"

"She only saw us for a second. We could have been .."

"What? Kissing?"

"Much worse than that."

Since when was making love worse than kissing? "Who can she tell? Even if she does talk, we know that nothing was happening here." And not because he didn't want it to. Harry watched as a wave of distress passed across Ruth's face, and tears formed in her eyes. When one lone tear trickled down her cheek he reached out with his thumb and brushed it aside. "If anyone says anything about what Kimberley saw I'll -"

"What? Have them deported? Send them to the Arctic Circle to check out rumours of organising amongst the polar bear population?"

Harry tipped his head to the side and lifted his eyes to look just above Ruth's head, where he saw their reflection in the mirror above the basins. With one of his arms around her, and her hands still grasping his sleeves they appeared to be in a warm embrace. "I could give them a good talking to."

"Oh, right. That should sort them out."

"Ruth, you need to go somewhere you can sit down."

"And how do you propose I get there?"

* * *

In the meeting room things were not going well.

"We can't make a decision about the Chechens without Ruth's input," Dimitri said.

"Why not?" Ros was becoming irritated with them all. How was it that every time Ruth and Harry were unavailable everything on the Grid ground to a halt?

"She has the intel."

"Tariq?" Ros said, glaring at the technical wizard, who appeared to shrivel under her gaze. "Can't you drum up some intel on those Chechen contacts?"

"Not without the encryption Ruth uses, and she won't share it with me."

"Jesus. Why do the rest of us even bother turning up?"

"Every morning I ask myself the same thing," Dimitri said.

"Look," said Tariq, pointing through the glass to the Grid. "Harry is helping Ruth into his office."

Ros sat back in her chair and passed her hand over her eyes.

"We'll go then, shall we?" Dimitri suggested.

"Why not," Ros said, not looking up, "and if the country is threatened by this latest group, then we'll all just lie down and take it."

Dimitri and Tariq quickly left the meeting room, leaving Lucas and Ros alone. "That went well," Lucas murmured.

"Oh, shut up."

"No, I mean it. This leaves us free to get out in the field and crack some heads."

"Crack some heads? This isn't the ghetto, Lucas. You need _permission_ to start a random fight on the streets."

Lucas grinned. "I have this asset."

"Good for you."

"His wife is Chechen."

"And?"

"She has a brother."

"And he is in the inner sanctum?"

"Better than that." Lucas dropped his voice and leaned forward in his seat. "He's been in the target group, but then left when his sister married a Russian."

"Your asset is Russian."

"Yes. And his brother-in-law is dying to spill the beans."

"So he has a death wish."

"Most likely."

"Go for it," Ros said. "I suggest you milk him for information before they kill him."

"What will you do while I'm out?"

"Contemplate the gross inconsistencies within the British ruling class."

"Time well spent."

"I thought so."

And once Lucas left the meeting room, Ros sighed and yawned. It looked like she was in charge, perhaps for the remainder of the day. Sweet.

* * *

Harry had called the section doctor to Ruth, who had complained over and over of not wanting to be a nuisance. After the doctor had declared that Ruth's ankle was badly sprained, and that she needed a minimum of three days away from work with her foot elevated, he had bound it tightly, then instructed her on how to change the elastic bandage.

Once the doctor left Harry's office, Ruth had begun her protest. "I have so much to do. I can't be sitting here with my foot up."

"The section will run just fine without you, Ruth."

"Well, thank you for that. It's nice to know I'm valued."

Harry drew his lips together in exasperation. Sometimes Ruth could be rather difficult, a characteristic he tended to forget on a daily basis, hoping that it would have disappeared overnight. "What I meant was, we can cover for you for a few days."

"A few days?" Ruth had sat up straight and was staring hard at Harry. "I can't be away from work for a few days. What about this Chechen thing?"

She had a point. The section could grind to a halt were Ruth to spend more than twenty-four hours away from the Grid. "You need to rest, and you need to keep your foot elevated, but …"

"I can still work, Harry."

"Not here. This place is not set up for it."

"Then where? I can't be at home. I'll go mad."

"I have somewhere better."

"Where?"

Dare he? Why not? What can be the worst thing to happen were he to suggest what was on his mind? "My place. You can -"

"You must be out of your mind," she said, her eyes flaring. She tried to stand, but her ankle was too sore to bear even her partial weight, so she sat down heavily, and once again tears of pain and frustration rolled down her cheeks. Harry reached a hand towards her, but she pushed it away. "Don't even think about trying to comfort me," she said between sobs, "especially since you're the very reason I hurt my ankle in the first place."

Ruth pushed her hand into the pocket in her jacket and drew out a tissue. She blew her nose and took a deep breath, glancing up at Harry to check how he had received her news. Surprised didn't even begin to describe it. Floundering, perplexed, befuddled all came close, but underlying all that she could detect more than a smidgeon of hurt. "You'll have to explain that," he said quietly, his voice giving nothing away.

In an attempt to deflect his question, Ruth took out another tissue, at which point Harry got up and strode over to the shelves behind his desk and brought back a full box of tissues. "Here," he said, "supplied by the government. I keep them for emergencies."

"Emergencies? Like what?"

Harry felt himself redden as his mind wandered to the kind of emergencies he suspected Ruth might be imagining. "Like now. You need a tissue and I have a year's supply."

Ruth drew three tissues from the box and wiped around her eyes, and then blew her nose. Most of all she felt embarrassed to be in such a state in front of Harry, who always presented himself as tidy and unruffled.

"You still haven't explained your statement of three minutes ago," he said.

"It was nothing." Ruth looked at the wall opposite, determined to not catch Harry's eye. "I was upset."

"Ruth .. you as good as accused me of being responsible for your sprained ankle. I seem to remember being in the meeting room at the time."

She looked up at him warily, unsure of whether to give him an explanation which could quite easily result in his scorn. Very carefully she lifted both legs onto the sofa and turned, so that she looked towards the door. "So you don't remember what happened before the meeting?"

* * *

 _ **A/N : 2nd and last chapter up in (around) 24 hours.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thank you to those who left reviews for Ch 1. This chapter follows on directly from the last, and becomes more serious towards the end.**_

* * *

"They seem to get on well," Tariq said, taking his eyes from the goings-on in Harry's office. This was one time when he wished he could lip read.

"Looks can be deceiving," Ros replied, not taking her eyes from her monitor.

"But aren't they …?"

"Aren't they what?" This time Ros looked at Tariq, hoping to frighten him into getting back to work.

"You know .. dating."

"Those two wouldn't know how to go about dating. Besides, Harry was the one who had her husband shot."

Tariq's eyes widened. "Not quite, Ros. He wasn't the one who gave the order, or pulled the trigger."

"He may as well have done. At least that's how Ruth sees it."

"So if she feels that way, why is she sitting in Harry's office, talking to Harry and .. _smiling_ at him?"

"Maybe she gets a thrill out of hurting him."

For a full minute Tariq turned towards the glass wall of Harry's office and watched while Ruth spoke. She seemed embarrassed, but then when Harry smiled and spoke to her, she glanced up at him and returned his smile. To Tariq that didn't look like she was aiming to hurt Harry. Harry had seemed pleased, even happy.

"Trust me, Tariq," drawled Ros, "she's probably secretly plotting to take over as section head."

* * *

"You were at your desk, and I had wandered over to talk to you," Harry said. "You were about to say something when -"

"Ros appeared and nodded to you."

"And I nodded back at her. She was reminding me about the meeting," he said, frowning slightly, still not sure what Ruth was saying.

"At the time I was about to ask you -"

"Ask me what?"

Ruth nodded. "I hadn't hurt my ankle then. I took a detour to the ladies before the meeting, and when I slipped over I wasn't looking, and I wasn't looking because I was planning how I could again corner you and invite you to join me for a drink after work."

Harry's face softened, his eyes gentle. "And I interrupted that rather .. delightful opportunity. I'm really sorry I let you down."

"You didn't let me down, Harry. You .."

"I was a pedantic bore."

"Well ..." Ruth looked into his eyes and gave him a weak smile, "if the cap fits."

"I should have waited another ten seconds and listened to you."

Ruth looked down at her hands. "Such are the pivotal moments on which our lives turn." She noticed Harry frowning at her. "What?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking that .. maybe .. we could still .."

"We could still what?"

Harry appeared embarrassed, and he briefly broke eye contact with her. When his eyes again met hers he detected definite interest, so he blundered on. "I was thinking that we could still have that drink, but perhaps we could have it at my place .. or your place, if you'd rather not go to mine."

"It depends where I choose to go to .. recover from this -"

"Injury."

"I was about to say inconvenience. It's barely an injury."

"But you can't walk with only one good leg, Ruth."

"True."

Harry watched her face, waiting patiently for an answer.

* * *

Ros was snowed under with paperwork. She would have appreciated Harry's help, but he was still faffing about in his office with Ruth. She wondered briefly whether she should hand them a map.

"You'd never guess what," came a voice from behind her left shoulder. She turned to see Tariq standing behind her grinning, which annoyed her far more than it should.

"If it's not about the Chechens, then I don't want to know."

"It's better than that."

"Better than the Chechens?"

"By far. You'll never guess what I know."

"No, Tariq, I never will guess, so perhaps you can just tell me. I have around -"

"Kimberley told me something, and it's really interesting."

Now, to Ros, the words `Kimberley' and `interesting' would not normally be spoken in the same sentence, but just this once, she was prepared to entertain the possibility that perhaps she didn't know everything. "Do tell," she said, sitting back in her chair, and giving Tariq her full attention as he moved closer.

"Well .. she said that she went to the ladies loos after you left there."

"Yes. I left as soon as Harry turned up, and around two minutes later I met Kimberley in the corridor."

"Yeah, well, she caught Harry and Ruth at it."

" _At_ it?"

"Yeah. She said he was on top of her and they were only half dressed. She saw Harry's bare bum, so that proves it."

"And you believed her?"

"Yeah. Why not? She said she saw them."

"Look, Tariq, I'm not sure I should be the one telling you this, but Harry is a man in his mid fifties, and as I had only left them two minutes earlier, with Ruth sitting on the floor and Harry kneeling beside her – both fully clothed - the likelihood of them being _in flagrante delicto_ in the time between me leaving and Kimberley bursting through the door is next to impossible."

"Oh, right, I hadn't thought of that. So Kimberley was lying."

"As unlikely as that sounds, I'd say yes, she was."

"But she's told everyone."

"Define everyone."

"She was in the third floor canteen, and she told everyone there, including some of the serving staff." Ros covered her face with both hands and groaned. "What should I do now?" Tariq asked.

Ros dropped her hands and sighed heavily. "To anyone who asks, or anyone you know to be spreading this piece of malicious gossip, you have to tell them the truth."

"So I tell them that it's a lie because Harry's too old and can't get it up."

"Christ, no. I'm sure he can … Look, just stop the gossip in it's tracks. Tell them .. tell them to grow up and get back to work."

Tariq stepped back and waited for Ros to say more, but she simply stared right at him.

When he heard voices he looked up to see Harry helping Ruth through the pods. He watched as they left together, Ruth limping, while Harry's arm was around her waist.

* * *

Ruth was sitting on the loo in her own flat, hoping that Harry wasn't still waiting outside the door. He'd instructed her to call out when she was ready to be helped back to the sofa. Perhaps she hadn't thought this through. How would she get upstairs to bed? She was fortunate to have a downstairs loo, but her shower and bedroom – and her clothes – were all upstairs.

Harry arrived outside the toilet door when she called, and as he helped her back to the sofa, his hand warm on her waist, she shared with him her concerns. "Let me worry about that," he said, and he'd smiled at her as he'd tucked a blanket around her legs.

He had to leave, of course, and she'd given him her house keys so that he could let himself in when he returned after work with dinner and some wine. In the meantime Ruth had to manage on her own.

* * *

"So," Ros said after an unnaturally long pause, during which Kimberley had swallowed at least three times, "I need you to understand the difference between a pub and the work place." Kimberley said nothing. "You do know that this is work place and not a pub?"

"Yeah .. I suppose so. A pub's where you get a drink."

"And it's where you gossip, and then at the end of the night you fall over, right?"

Kimberley nodded.

"And you do none of that here, Kimberley, especially the gossiping part."

"Oh, right, so this is about what I saw in the ladies' loos."

"Yes. Well spotted." By this time Kimberley appeared deeply embarrassed, avoiding Ros' gaze. Ros almost felt sorry for her .. but not quite. "You see," she continued, "the people about whom you made up those tales were our section head and senior analyst, and he was helping her to her feet after she'd sprained her ankle rather badly, so badly she's having to take a couple of days off."

"I didn't know that," Kimberley replied, a little sulkily. "I thought they were just having a sneaky snog."

"And were they to be so inclined, I suspect they would choose a more .. private venue than a ..."

"A bog's not the best place for that sort of thing," Kimberley said, suddenly energised, "I should know."

"Right, so here's the thing. You are to go now and seek out every person to whom you told that lie, and you are to tell them the truth."

"All of them? There were at least .. sixteen people."

"Then find them and speak to them."

"Now?"

"Yes, now."

So Kimberley left, and headed downstairs, and Ros went back to work, but only for a minute.

"I heard that," Tariq said from the desk behind her. "What about all the people who heard the gossip from the people Kimberley told? What about them? Are you going to find them and tell them also?"

"I can't do everything, Tariq. As surprising as it may sound, I'm not God."

"No, I suppose not," he said, taking the hint and heading back to the technology suite.

* * *

"I brought these for you," Ros said, carefully placing a laptop on the coffee table in front of Ruth, and then presenting her with a broom with a shortened handle.

Ros had let herself into Ruth's flat using the keys Ruth had loaned Harry. "I can't do housework, Ros. I'm sofa-bound."

Ros lifted the broom and turned it so that the handle rested on the floor. "This is my invention. What do you think?"

"I suspect the broom for short people has already been invented."

"It's to help you walk. Like this," and Ros had to bend slightly to place the bristles end under her armpit. "That way you won't need to hail Harry every time you need something."

Ruth threw her a look of warning. "I don't .. _h_ _ail_ Harry every time I want something."

"Well, maybe not today. Tea or coffee?" Ros asked, before heading through to the kitchen. Ruth hadn't answered, because she was still contemplating the meaning hidden between Ros's words. After a few short minutes Ros carried mugs of coffee through to the living room, placing Ruth's on the coffee table within her reach. Ruth's ankle was throbbing, and she'd been about to ask Ros to get her some paracetamol from upstairs when the other woman did a complete about turn.

"You know," Ros began, nursing her coffee mug between her hands while she stared at the gas fire, which was turned off, "Harry has lost a lot during the past few years."

"And I haven't?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like you hadn't, but he was deeply affected by the events which occurred .. when you returned. What I'm saying is it's clear he's still .." Ros struggling for words was something Ruth hadn't often seen. "The whole time you were away he's carried a torch for you." Ruth opened her mouth to speak, but Ros held up her hand. "No. Let me finish. He's unlikely to say anything, and I don't wish to see him hurt."

"You think I'll _hurt_ him?"

"Perhaps not intentionally, but … were you to treat him .. carelessly … he may never recover." Ruth had no idea how to reply to that, so she said nothing, her head whirling with Ros' words. "If there's nothing else," Ros said, leaving her coffee, barely touched, on the coffee table, "I'll get out of your hair."

And as quickly as she'd arrived, she left. Ruth sat against the cushions at one end of the sofa, staring at the doorway through which Ros had disappeared. _Am I really that horrible to Harry?_

* * *

It was almost 7.30 when Harry arrived with dinner and wine, by which time Ruth's stomach was rumbling. They had only just settled at the table and begun to eat their Indian meal when Harry's phone rang, an insistent electronic buzzing from the inside top pocket of his jacket, which was draped over the back of the chair next to his. He gave Ruth a lop-sided smile, and mouthed `sorry'.

"Ros," he said briskly into the phone.

" _Can you talk?"_

"I'm afraid not."

" _Is Ruth with you?"_

"Yes."

" _Just listen."_

"I'm listening."

" _A junior member of staff walked in on you and Ruth in the wash room this morning."_

"Yes, I remember."

" _She spread the rumour that you and Ruth were engaged in sexual relations in the ladies' loo."_

"Dear God .."

" _I put her right."_

"And you're telling me this because …?"

" _Just in case the young woman in question didn't take my threats seriously, and for you to placate Ruth should the word get out."_

"Well, thank you for that."

" _Rather you than me."_

"Will that be all?"

" _Almost. Lucas has met someone from within the Chechen inner circle, the result of which is that he has all the intel we'll need."_

"How did he manage that?"

" _It's complicated."_

"It usually is. Is that all?"

" _For now, yes."_

"Goodnight, then."

" _Goodnight, Harry."_

Trying not to look at Ruth, Harry returned the phone to his jacket pocket. "Trouble?" Ruth asked quietly.

"No more than usual," Harry replied, tucking into his Tandoori Chicken, his eyes avoiding her.

* * *

"How are you managing getting around?" Harry asked as he opened their second bottle of wine, having taken their plates and the empty containers from their meal through to the kitchen.

"With the mini broom Ros made for me I can do anything, go anywhere," Harry lifted one eyebrow. "I got bored, and so I practised going up and down the stairs. I only fell over once."

"You fell down the stairs?" His tone was fearful, accusatory _._

"No, of course not. The .. broom got caught on the rug in my bedroom, and I fell forward onto my bed. But I am able to negotiate the stairs, so .."

Harry drew his eyebrows together. "So you no longer need me."

"I didn't say that." Ruth dropped her eyes to her fingers, which were absently stroking the stem of her wine glass, her mind darting through the possible replies she could offer Harry. When she lifted her eyes to his he appeared worried. "I .. suspect I'll always .. need you, Harry."

Harry filled the silence which followed by topping up their wine. Then they each sat, contemplating the pale liquid in their glasses. "Define need," Harry said at last, his voice quiet, his heart hammering in his chest.

"You're referring to _my_ need of _you_ .. aren't you?" He nodded. They both understood that he needed her, had always needed her, perhaps always would. With each second that passed the fluttering of hope deep inside him began to fade. "I .. don't know what to say," she concluded lamely.

"Then try, Ruth. I need to know."

"You might not like what I have to say."

"I know, but I still need to hear it."

Harry watched as she stroked the sides of the glass with her fingertips. He wondered did she need help with an opening sentence. "I .. the best way I have of saying this is that I feel miserable when you're not with me, but rather less miserable when you are."

"Is that the best we can be, Ruth? Miserable together and apart?"

She waited, her eyes on his, and then she nodded. "For now, Harry. It's only a few months since .."

Of course it was, but surely they could do better than _miserable_. "I know, Ruth, and I understand that."

They each turned their eyes to their wine, and they each took light sips from their glasses, each thinking, each dissatisfied with the way things were.

"Speaking for myself," Ruth said, "I'd rather be miserable with you than miserable without you."

Harry's face broke into a rare smile, and he reached one hand across the table towards Ruth's fingers. She reached out to grasp his fingers with her own. Much relieved, Harry rubbed the pad of his thumb across Ruth's skin and she shivered. "Are you less miserable now, Ruth?"

She nodded, returning his smile. "Much."

"And we can be less miserable another night .. having another drink together, perhaps out somewhere nice … once your ankle is better?"

Ruth raised her eyes to meet his. "Yes. I'd like that. Very much," and then she smiled widely.

"Ruth? Are you .. _happy_ at this moment?" She nodded, and he caught the trembling in her bottom lip. "Please talk to me," he pleaded.

Ruth took her recalcitrant lip between her teeth, stilling it's trembling. Then she sighed heavily, grasping his hand tightly. "Being here with you, being happy … I feel so guilty."

"Ruth .. were I to have died that day I wouldn't want you to be unhappy .. and I wouldn't want you to be feeling guilty were you to find happiness .. and love .. with another, as I think .. he would also."

"I know."

"Then what is this about?"

"Because in all that time I was .. with George I never stopped .. thinking of you."

Harry was surprised by her revelation, and he took some moments to absorb her words. "I think we're allowed to be happy," he said, and deciding to take a risk, he dropped her hand, stood, and slowly moved from his own chair to the chair beside where Ruth sat. As he sat he reached out to her so that as he slid his arm around her she leaned against him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. "We can do so much better than miserable," he whispered, before pressing his lips to her temple.

He felt her lift her head to look up at him, and then she nodded. "I know."

Harry tightened his arm around her, and Ruth moved in closer, very carefully placing one hand on his thigh, and tucking her head under his chin. He felt the soft tickling of her breath against the skin of his throat as she spoke, and revelled in the scent of her as he breathed it in. A pulse of pleasure passed through his body. "And I haven't forgotten your birthday," he said quietly. "It's just that -"

"There have been distractions."

"There have. I'll .. we can do something in a few days, maybe a meal." He waited for her reply, but she said nothing. "Ruth?"

She was smiling against his throat. Were she fully able-bodied, she'd be doing a little jig around the table. "Yes," she said quietly, "I'd like that."

"That's good," he said, and he relaxed a little, resting his cheek against her hair.

* * *

 _ **A/N : I would like to acknowledge the wonderful fic, "Somewhere on the Edge of Sadness", by FaerieChild22, in which the idea of H & R's relationship being one where they are not always very happy together, but they are distressed when apart is alluded to. I have just explored this idea in a different context.**_


End file.
